Monster Mash
by Kirk Hastings
Summary: An old nemesis returns to menace Milt Hardcastle and Mark McCormick. Plus Mark has a late-night encounter with a decidedly UNjolly Green Giant who likes to wreck cars! Guest-Starring David Banner and The Incredible Hulk!


HARDCASTLE & McCORMICK

"Monster Mash"

_Guest Starring The Incredible Hulk_

_by Kirk Hastings_

(Based on characters created by Patrick Hasburgh, Stephen J. Cannell, Stan Lee and Kenneth Johnson)

**A** woman's scream, long and blood-curdling, suddenly pierced the night.

The scream appeared to have come from Hardcastle's den downstairs.

Within seconds the judge hopped out of bed and grabbed his rifle, which was leaning upright in a nearby corner of the room. He hurriedly threw some cartridges in it and headed for his bedroom door. Clad only in nightshorts and a t-shirt, he sprinted down the stairs to the first floor.

When he got downstairs he discovered that the door to the den was closed. He used his foot to kick open the door and burst into the den, holding the rifle up.

He stopped. The room was dark, except for the flickering glow of his TV set on the far wall. Directly in front of the set he saw the back of the red leather easy chair that usually sat over in the corner. There were empty snack bags strewn all over the floor around it.

McCormick suddenly poked his head up over the back of the chair, a surprised look on his face.

"Whoa, Judge, hold your fire! It's only me!" he tried to say, but it didn't come out quite right, as his mouth was still half full of popcorn from the bowl he was holding in his hands. He jumped out of the chair, spilling popcorn all over the floor as he did so.

An exasperated look crossed Hardcastle's face as he slowly lowered the gun. "McCormick, what the hell are you doing in here this time of night looking at my TV set?" he roared.

McCormick hurriedly wiped his mouth with a napkin from his jeans pocket and set the popcorn bowl down on the chair. "My set over in the gatehouse conked out, and I wanted to watch Creature Features on The Late Late Show," he stuttered. "So I came over here."

Hardcastle put the rifle down. "What was so all-fired important that you hadda come over here in the middle of the night to see it and wake me up out of a sound sleep?" he bellowed.

"It's a real classic from the 1950s, Judge!" Mark explained. "I've been wanting to see it for years. It's called 'The Amazing Colossal 50-Foot Woman Who Destroyed Pittsburgh!'"

"It's called _what_?" The Amazing Colossal _what_?"

"50-Foot Woman Who Destroyed Pittsburgh!" Mark said helpfully. "It's all about this woman, see, that discovers this strange glowing meteor from outer space out in the desert, and its radiation starts making her grow, and her husband doesn't understand, so he starts running around with other women, and finally his wife, now 50-foot tall, pulls the roof off this bar so she can grab him, and -- "

"All right, all right!" Hardcastle interrupted him. "At least just keep the sound turned down so I can get a little shuteye, willya?"

"Sure, Judge, sure!" Mark assured him.

Hardcastle turned around and stalked back upstairs.

# # #

David Banner had been walking since late afternoon north along Pacific Coast Highway, since the last driver who had picked him up had dropped him off. For the last few days he had been investigating a medical facility in San Diego that had a gamma ray unit, hoping that that unit could help him with his problem. But the device had turned out to be far too simple for his needs. It did not have adequate capabilities for the purpose he wanted to use it for. Now he was hitchhiking his way to Santa Barbara, hoping that a similar unit at a hospital located there might be of more help to him.

It was now quite late, and it was time to get some rest. With this idea in mind he looked for a suitable spot back off the road where he could grab some sleep propped up against a tree in relative privacy until daybreak.

Momentarily he passed a wrought-iron gate that looked like the entrance to an estate located somewhere back off the road. The gate was hung between two stone pillars, and a metal arch hung over it that said "Gull's Way" in ornate letters.

He circled around the gate and walked back into the underbrush a bit alongside the long curving driveway. The fact that he was on private property meant that no one from the road would be likely to disturb him until morning. He found a suitable tree back in the brush that he could settle against and be relatively safe from prying eyes. He sat down, and pulled the small garment bag he was carrying off his shoulder, laying it on the ground. He laid his head back against the tree. Almost immediately he was dozing.

Shortly thereafter -- he wasn't sure exactly how long he had been asleep – a noise awoke him. Years on the road had accustomed him to waking up at almost an instant's notice.

The sound had been two car doors quietly closing, and low voices talking.

Carefully he raised himself to a stooping position, and tried to zero in on the sounds he had heard. They were coming from his right. As quietly as he could he began to move through the brush in a crouch, toward where he had heard the sounds.

After a moment he came to the edge of the driveway he had seen earlier. The moon was not full, but it gave him enough light to perceive that a dark sedan was parked there, its engine off and its lights out. He looked down the driveway toward where he assumed the property's owner lived. He could barely see two men walking away from the car.

Despite the darkness, he could tell that the men were both carrying shotguns.

He stepped onto the driveway and started to move slowly in the direction of the men, but unfortunately as he did his foot landed on an invisible twig, creating a loud snapping sound.

The two men immediately pivoted around. "Look – there's someone there!" one man exclaimed. Before the other one could stop him, the first man raised his shotgun to his shoulder, took aim, and fired.

Inside Gull's Way, Mark started awake in the easy chair. He had fallen asleep some time before, but a loud noise had awakened him. The TV was still on, but the sound was turned down low, and he was sure the sharp sound he had heard had not come from it. On the screen two lovers were indulging in activity that did not usually make a lot of noise.

He jumped up from the chair and went over to the window of the Judge's study. Pulling aside the blind he peered outside.

He couldn't see anything, but nevertheless he decided he should go outside and check around anyway. He headed for the front door.

Fortunately, the shotgun blast did not score a direct hit on David Banner – but it was close enough to shred the sleeve of David's shirt and cause a deep flesh wound in his arm.

David lurched to his right back into the brush. He moved as quickly as he could, trying to lose himself in his dark surroundings, as the two men ran back up the driveway in his direction.

David stumbled through the underbrush until his strength gave out and he finally had to sit down. His shirt sleeve was covered with blood, and he knew the wound, though not deep, was a bad one, and he could bleed to death from it very quickly. He held the wound tightly with his other hand, trying to staunch the flow of blood. The pain was considerable.

The two men reached the spot where David had disappeared into the brush, and started to search for him.

David groaned in pain. He could hear the men searching for him, and they were not far away. But he didn't have the strength to get up and run any more.

He looked up. The moonlight shone on his face, revealing that the pupils of his eyes had both turned pure white.

Hardcastle came stomping down the stairs again, and stumbled into the den.

"All right, McCormick – didn't I tell you to turn that damned TV down?" he growled. He went over to the easy chair, but discovered that it was empty.

The two men with the shotguns decided to give up the search for whoever they had shot at. "Let's get out of here!" the second man shouted. "That blast will wake up everyone within a mile!"

With that the two men turned back toward their car. When they reached it they both jumped in, and the first man started the engine. He put the car into reverse and hit the gas.

Nothing happened.

"Let's get out of here!" the second man yelled from the passenger seat.

"I'm trying!" the first man yelled back. "She won't move!"

Instinctively the first man looked up into the rear view mirror. What he saw made his blood run cold.

"What? What is it?" the second man bawled. He turned in his seat to look out the rear window.

His eyes went wide as he saw that _something_ was holding the back end of the car so that it could not move. It appeared to be a man, but a very _large_ man. And he was angry. A menacing grimace was on his face.

It was hard to tell in the dim moonlight, but his face appeared to be _green._

The driver jerked the car back into Park and jumped out of the car with his shotgun. He raised the gun to his shoulder to shoot whoever it was that was behind the car.

But he was not quick enough. The mysterious giant holding the car had let go and was coming forward with the speed of an express train. Even in the dim light the man with the shotgun could tell that this stranger was huge.

The giant grabbed the shotgun from the man's hand and, with an amazing display of physical strength, twisted the metal barrel up into a pretzel. Then he threw the mangled gun to the ground and grabbed the other man by his shirt.

The man yelled as he was forcibly yanked up off the ground and tossed over the roof of the car as if he was a sack of potatoes. He landed hard in the brush, and was knocked unconscious by the impact.

The second man got out of the car and tried to figure out what was going on. He backed away from the car just as Mark came running down the driveway.

Mark came to a sudden stop in the middle of the driveway. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

A man was backing away from a dark sedan parked in the driveway. Standing behind that sedan was a man that was larger than any man Mark had ever seen before. His shirt was ripped to shreds and barely hung onto his broad, muscular shoulders. He was a giant, probably close to seven feet tall, and his huge body rippled with hard, incredibly developed muscles. An angry snarl was on his face, but his eyes were invisible underneath his jutting brow, which gave him the appearance of an animalistic, antediluvian primitive.

And his skin was _green_.

The giant stooped and grabbed the bumper of the sedan. With a roar of white hot rage he lifted the back end of the car up off the pavement and pushed it up into the air, causing the car to flip forward, end over end, and come crashing down on its roof, spewing glass and metal all over the roadway.

At this incredible display of strength the man standing nearby took off like a scared jackrabbit. Mark just stood and stared as the giant green man raised his clenched fists and growled loudly in an expression of angry defiance at the retreating man.

When the other man had disappeared the giant turned toward Mark.

The giant looked at Mark, and Mark stared back, unable to move. Slowly the giant lowered his fists, and he stood looking at Mark more out of curiosity than anything else. The snarl was gone from his face.

Then the giant turned and suddenly sprinted away, vanishing into the darkness.

A moment later Hardcastle came trotting up behind Mark. This time he was dressed in a robe, but he was once again carrying his shotgun.

"Hey, kid, what is it? What's going on?" he asked as he came up to Mark's side. He looked around. "Trespassers?"

Mark turned and looked at him.

"Judge, you will _never_ believe this one in a _million_ years," was all Mark could say.

# # #

"Kid, I've heard some stories in my life, but _that_ one is plain ridiculous," Hardcastle was saying back at the house. They were both sitting in the dining room. "I think you were having a dream or something inspired by that stupid monster movie you were watching. Or maybe you were drinking something other than that 2-liter bottle of soda you emptied. ... Incidentally, that soda and those snacks are all coming out of your allowance!"

Mark looked back at Hardcastle, a look of disgust on his face.

"I'm telling you, judge, I saw what I saw!" Mark insisted defensively. "You saw the busted-up car in the driveway yourself! What do you think _did_ that? Crazed woodchucks?"

A puzzled look crossed Hardcastle's face. "Well, I don't _know_ what did that," he admitted. "But I sure as hell don't think it was giant green men from Mars!"

Mark got up from the table. "Oh, forget it!" he spat. "I'm going outside again to look around." He headed toward the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hardcastle yelled after him. "It's two o'clock in the morning! I gotta get my beauty sleep!"

Mark waved him off and walked out the door.

Once outside he walked slowly down the driveway of Gull's Way toward the main road, looking around for anything that might give him some clues about what had happened earlier that evening.

He hadn't gone far when he thought he heard a slight sound from the bushes off to his left.

It sounded like a moan.

He stared into the darkness, squinting his eyes in the hopes of picking out something definitive in the darkness. He wasn't quite ready to risk barging whole-hog into the dark brush. That could wait until daylight.

"Hello?" Anybody there?" he whispered timidly. He was still thinking about that monster movie he had been watching earlier.

There was another sound like a moan of pain.

Abruptly a man staggered out onto the driveway pavement.

He was an average-looking, average-sized man, but he looked like he had been in a train wreck. His clothes were all torn, and he had blood on his left arm. He was scratched up and dirty from being in the underbrush.

The man didn't look like the typical serial killer or axe murderer, so Mark instinctively jumped forward to steady him, as he looked like he was going to collapse any minute.

"Thanks," the man managed to say.

If he was a serial killer, he certainly was polite, Mark thought.

"Hey, you look terrible!" Mark told him. "Come on, let me take you up to the house. We can call a doctor from there!"

"That's all right," David Banner answered. "I don't need a doctor. I'm a doctor myself. If I could just clean myself up and rest at your place for a little bit I would be extremely grateful."

"Sure, sure," Mark replied as he helped him up toward the house.

# # #

Hardcastle was on the phone when Mark came into his den.

"Yeah, I know it's late," Hardcastle was saying. "But I've got one unconscious trespasser here, a wrecked car in my driveway, and another guy that looks like a semi ran over him. Just send somebody out here, willya?"

He slammed the phone down.

"How's that guy – what's his name? – doing?"

"David. David Brenner. I think he's all right," Mark replied. He flopped into the easy chair, which was now facing Hardcastle's desk. "He's got a slight wound on his left arm, but it doesn't look bad at all. Despite all the blood on his shirt it already looks like it's partly healed. He's sleeping in the guest room. Any idea who that guy is we found unconscious in the bushes?"

"Nope. Never seen him before. We'll run a check on him once the cops get here. Now what's all this crap you were telling me about some big green guy overturning that car?"

Now Mark got animated. "It's true, Judge!" he said. "I saw him!"

Hardcastle had an extremely skeptical expression on his face. "Sure, sure. You were watching some garbage monster movie on TV when you fell asleep, weren't you?"

"Yeah, but ..."

"But nothing! I thought all you were drinking was soda. Have you been in my liquor cabinet again?"

Mark stood up. "Judge, I haven't had anything to drink tonight except that cheap no-brand fizzy pop you buy at the convenience store!"

"Well, it's cheaper than the brand-name stuff!" Hardcastle barked back defensively. "And it tastes the same anyway, so what's the difference?"

Hardcastle waved his hand in disgust.

# # #

"Mark, did you have anything strong to drink before you ... saw all this?" Lt. Frank Harper was saying. It was the next morning at police headquarters, and Harper stared quizzically at Mark and the Judge across his desk.

"No, I did _not_ have anything strong to drink last night!" Mark repeated for the third time. "Unless you consider that cheap no-brand fizzy pop the Judge buys strong drink!"

"Let's not bring my buying habits into this, McCormick!" the Judge yelled at him.

"Okay, okay," Harper interrupted, waving his hand. Playing referee between Mark and the Judge had gotten to be an old habit with him.

"Did you find anything on that guy we found unconscious in the bushes?" Hardcastle finally asked, after a short period of sullen silence.

"Nothing significant," Harper answered. "He's just a small-time hood that's been busted before on similar charges. You know, your basic, low-level, easily bought hit man. Insists he doesn't know the identity of the man who hired him – all business was done over the phone."

Hardcastle grunted.

"However, he _did_ give the same story Mark did about some big green whatchamacallit overturning his car and then running off."

"You don't believe that, do you?" Hardcastle asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Judge, are you calling me a liar?" Mark retorted.

"No, I'm not calling you a liar!" Hardcastle snapped back. "I just think you're ... a little confused, that's all. Too many monster movies and too much fizzy pop!"

Mark turned toward Harper. "You heard that goon's story, Lieutenant! It jived perfectly with mine! What about that?"

"I don't know what to think right now!" Harper replied noncommittally. "What about this David Brenner you say is staying at your house? What's his part in all this?"

"We don't know," Hardcastle told him. "We think he was just passing by, hitchhiking on the road, when he ran afoul of these two birds in the sedan."

"Nevertheless, I'd like to question him. Can you get him in here?"

Hardcastle nodded. "Sure, we'll bring him in."

Just then Mark noticed a newspaper lying on the edge of Harper's desk. He picked it up. It was a copy of _The National Register_, a nationwide tabloid paper.

"I bought that for my wife," Harper explained. "She's always reading that junk. I keep telling her ..."

Mark stared at the front page. "That's him!" he suddenly exclaimed. "That's the guy I saw last night!"

"What?" Harper ejaculated.

Mark held the paper up so Harper and Hardcastle could both see it. The headline read "Hulk Destroys Lab in San Diego," and there was a fuzzy black-and-white photograph of what appeared to be a very large, muscular man holding a piece of heavy apparatus over his head, ready to throw it through an open doorway.

Harper took the newspaper from Mark and stared at it.

"You're kidding me, right?" Harper replied. "This paper has been running this 'Hulk' business for years now. But no one has ever been able to prove anything about it. It's kind of like Bigfoot, or the Loch Ness Monster."

"I'm telling you, Lieutenant, that's the guy I saw in our driveway last night!" Mark insisted.

"Oh, come on, kid, you're embarrassing me," Hardcastle interrupted. He grabbed Mark by the sleeve and hauled him forcefully out the door.

# # #

Outside, as Hardcastle and Mark headed for the Coyote, Mark turned to the older man.

"You know, you're wrong about this Judge," he said defiantly. "I know what I saw, and somehow I'm going to find a way to prove it to you!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure, kid," Hardcastle replied. "Big green Hulks that overturn cars and run off into the night. I think you oughta start watching something on TV a little more classy than that Creature Feature crap you watch."

"Oh, you mean like John Wayne movies?" Mark shot back sarcastically.

"Now yer cookin'!" the Judge said as he hopped into the Coyote.

# # #

When they got back to Gull's Way they found David Brenner up out of bed and dressed in the clothes Mark had given him. They encountered him in the hallway as they came in; he had his garment bag slung over his shoulder.

"You're not leaving already?" Mark said.

"Yes," David replied. "I really appreciate all your help. But I'm feeling better now, and I have an urgent appointment today that I must keep in Santa Barbara. I really have to go."

"But the police want to talk to you about last night," Hardcastle chimed in.

"I'm sorry, Judge Hardcastle, but I really can't tell them anything more than you've probably already told them," David told him. "I don't know the two men who were on your property, and I didn't see the 'big green man' that Mark saw. I really don't think I can be of much further help."

"Well, if you really have to," Mark said reluctantly. He liked David.

"I really have to," David said with a smile. "I must keep that appointment." He shook Mark's hand and the Judge's hand, and then headed out the front door with a wave.

"Well, that's that," Mark told the Judge after David had gone.

"I don't know," Hardcastle replied.

Mark looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I could swear that I've seen that David Brenner somewhere before."

"You mean you think he's a criminal?"

"I don't know," Hardcastle mused. "I just don't know."

# # #

David Banner had not gotten far from Gull's Way before a car pulled up beside him on the road. Two men jumped out of the car and grabbed him. Then one hit him on the head with a blackjack. Banner slumped into the men's arms, and they hauled him into the back seat of the car.

The car roared off at high speed.

# # #

Hardcastle put his desk phone down.

"I know who he is," he announced.

"Who who is?" Mark replied. He was lounging in the easy chair across from Hardcastle's desk reading a newspaper.

Hardcastle looked at Mark with a smirk on his face. "You sound like a barn owl. The guy that called himself David Brenner, of course!"

Mark continued flipping the pages of the newspaper, completely unconcerned. "Well, who is he?" he asked, not looking up.

"He's _Doctor_ David Banner," Hardcastle told him. "I knew I'd seen him someplace before! He was in the papers a few years ago. Supposedly he was killed in a lab explosion up in Valencia."

Now Mark put the paper down and sat up.

"You mean to tell me that guy's supposed to be dead?" he asked.

"That's right."

"Well, he looked awful animated to me," Mark said. "Especially when he left here."

"Seems he was a research scientist up in Valencia. He was performing a lab experiment in the Fall of 1977 when the lab blew up. The papers said it killed him and a fellow scientist, a woman named Elaina Marks."

"Well then, what was he doing here, alive and well and going under a false name seven years later?" Mark prodded.

"I don't know, kid. That's what we need to find out."

Just then the phone rang. Hardcastle picked it up.

"Yeah?"

He listened quietly for a minute to whoever was on the other end, and then put the phone down. He had a serious expression on his face.

"What was that all about?"

"Banner – Brenner – whatever his name is, has been snatched," Hardcastle told Mark. "Probably by other employees of the same guy who sent those dirtbags last night. Says we're supposed to come out to the old refinery up on Route 27 or else they'll pop him."

"Why? What do they want us for? And what's their beef against Brenner – uh, Banner?"

"Probably nothing. They're probably just using Banner as a means to get to us."

"Oh – so this has probably all been orchestrated by one of your old courtroom buddies out for revenge, is that it?"

"Probably. And the only way we're going to find out which one is to go up to that refinery."

Mark popped up out of the chair.

"Well, then, what are we waiting for, kemo sabe -- let's roll!"

# # #

It was an hour or so before dusk when the Coyote pulled up to the entrance gate to the Hasburgh Refinery on Route 27.

"What is this place, Judge?" Mark asked.

"It's an old manufacturing plant that closed up about five years ago," Hardcastle told him. He climbed out of the passenger seat of the Coyote and walked over to the wrought iron gate. On close inspection he discovered that the lock on the gate had been cut. He pushed the gate open, and then went back to the Coyote.

Once settled back in the passenger seat he pulled a .45-caliber pistol out of his pocket and cocked it.

"Okay, let's go," he said.

Mark eased the Coyote into the plant. They cruised slowly along the main entrance road, looking carefully to right and left.

As they penetrated deeper into the industrial plant they moved between some tall buildings. Suddenly, a car pulled out in front of them from behind one building, blocking their progress.

Mark immediately put the Coyote into reverse and started to back up. But then another car pulled out behind them, blocking their exit.

The Coyote squealed to a stop. Five men dressed in suits and sunglasses jumped out of both cars with pistols cocked and pointed directly at them.

"Drop your guns and get out of the car!" one of the men barked.

Realizing they were greatly outnumbered, Hardcastle dropped his pistol onto the ground, and he and Mark slowly climbed out of the Coyote. They stood on either side of it as the five men surrounded them. Two men frisked them, and then they were roughly shoved toward one of the buildings.

Once inside the warehouse they were directed toward a dark corner, where they saw David Banner, already trussed up and sitting on the floor.

"Tie them up too," the leader of the hoods barked. Two of the men produced ropes and started to tie McCormick's and Hardcastle's hands. When this was done they pushed them to the floor next to Banner. Then they tied their feet as well.

"Call the boss," the hood leader said. "I think he might want to do this job himself." One man walked away.

"Sorry I got you into this, kid," Hardcastle whispered to Mark.

"Ah, forget it," Mark answered. "This is just another in a long line of messes kemo sabe get Tonto into."

"What do these people want with us?" Banner asked them.

"Probably our lives," Hardcastle told him.

They sat there for quite a while, while the hoods kept them fully covered. The sun was just going down outside when the door to the warehouse finally opened and a man walked in.

The man walked over to the prisoners and looked down at them, a broad smile on his face.

Hardcastle looked up.

"Well, well, long time no see," he said. "How you doin', Arthur?"

"Fine, Judge, fine," Arthur Farnell replied. "Especially now, seeing you two hog-tied like this. I'm doing extremely well. I've waited a long time for this, especially after you broke up my burglary school last year."

"How'd you get out so soon?"

"I didn't. I've been playing the legal system for most of the past year. You know, hiring new lawyers, getting appeals, getting stays, that kind of thing. If you know how to work the system, you can stay out of jail for quite a while, even if you're guilty."

Hardcastle shook his head. He knew all too well what Farnell was talking about.

"So what are you gonna do with us?" Mark asked. "Fit us for cement overshoes and drop us in the nearest river?"

"Oh no, no," Farnell said. "Nothing as fancy as all that. I just figured I'd shoot you and bury you somewhere in this old plant where they'll never find you. That's all. Nice and simple."

"Revenge is a dish best served cold, huh, Farnell?" Hardcastle said.

"You got it, Judge," Farnell replied, still smiling.

One of the hoods handed Farnell a pistol. He pointed it at Hardcastle's head.

Just then David Banner used his tied feet to kick out at the nearest thug, who was standing next to Farnell. The man fell against Farnell, almost knocking him to the ground.

"Get him out of here!" Farnell yelled angrily, pointing at Banner. "I'll take care of him later, after I've done McCormick and Hardcastle!"

Two of the hoods grabbed Banner and roughly dragged him over to a nearby storage room. One opened the metal door, and the other threw Banner into the room. The first hood slammed the door shut and locked the big padlock on it.

Banner's head hit the far wall hard as he banged against it and collapsed to the floor. He grunted in pain. When he turned over and lifted his head up his eyes were pure white.

Farnell recomposed himself. "Okay, Judge, now where were we?" he said, as he once again pointed his gun at Hardcastle's head.

Suddenly there was a loud, animalistic snarl from the storage room.

Curious, one of the hoods made a move toward the door. As he did the heavy metal door flew outward off its hinges with a _boom_, snapping the padlock completely off. The door slammed into the hood, knocking him to the ground, unconscious.

The other hoods stood completely transfixed as The Incredible Hulk came barreling out of the storage room, growling and with fists clenched.

"See, Judge, see!" Mark shouted. "That's what I saw! There he is!"

"I don't believe it!" Hardcastle yelled back.

Farnell retreated as the other hoods, recovering their wits, pulled their pistols out of their coats.

The Hulk grabbed the metal door up off the ground and held it sideways in front of himself like a shield. The hoods fired their guns, but the bullets bounced off the door and ricocheted in every direction. A second hood went down, pierced in the chest by one.

"Stop shooting!" the leader of the hoods yelled. "The bullets are flying all over the place!"

The Hulk started to move forward, using the door as a battering ram. Another hood went down, knocked unconscious to the floor. The other two backed up. Led by Farnell, they crowded through the door to the outside as The Hulk forced them through.

Mark had been working at his bonds the whole time, and he finally managed to loosen the ones on his wrists enough to slip one hand through. He quickly untied himself, and then untied his feet. Then he untied Hardcastle.

Mark then sprinted over to the storage room, expecting to see David Banner lying there, still tied up. But when he poked his head into the doorway he discovered Banner was not there. There was only a mangled shirt lying on the floor.

"Where did he go?" Mark wondered out loud.

"I don't know, but Farnell's getting away!" Hardcastle bellowed. They both headed for the door to the outside, stopping to pick up two pistols from the downed hoods as they went.

Mark and Hardcastle both positioned themselves in the doorway. They could see that Farnell and his two remaining hoods were still backing away from The Hulk, who was still forcing them to retreat using the metal door. One of the hoods jumped back into his car that was in front of the Coyote.

Hardcastle aimed from the doorway and shot the other hood, who went down in a heap. Farnell ran for the car parked behind the Coyote.

The Hulk approached the first car as the hood in it tried to start it. The engine roared to life. But before the hood could put the car in gear to pull away The Hulk dropped the metal door and grabbed one of the rear wheels of the car with both hands, yanking it completely off, rim and all.

The car's remaining rear wheel squealed in the dirt as the now-unbalanced car spun crazily in a circle. Then it smacked into the side of the building across the roadway.

Realizing the car wasn't going to help him get away in its current condition, the driver killed the engine and jumped out. He pulled his pistol out of his coat and leveled it at The Hulk.

The Hulk hurled the wheel he was holding at the hood. The wheel slammed into the hood's chest before he could fire, knocking him backwards and to the ground. He did not get up.

Farnell gunned the engine of the car he had appropriated, and the car jerked backwards. Then it shot forward, turning away from the Coyote and headed toward the plant's exit.

Mark and Hardcastle both sprinted towards the Coyote. They hopped into the seats. Now that it had room to maneuver again, Mark pulled the Coyote forward and spun it completely around, its tires squealing.

As The Hulk roared in angry defiance, the Coyote rocketed away after Farnell.

"Here we go again with this high-speed chase stuff!" Mark shouted to Hardcastle. "It's a good thing Barbara gave me this car, or we'd never catch _anybody_!"

"Just drive, hotshot!" Hardcastle yelled back.

The two cars sped at high speed down the highway. A few miles down the road they came to a freeway intersection. Farnell took the right-hand exit ramp.

Instead of following Farnell Mark cut left across the highway and ran the Coyote down the grassy embankment directly to the other road. He met Farnell at the bottom, and Farnell yanked his steering wheel, turning his car in an almost 180 degree circle. Then Farnell sped off down the wrong side of the freeway!

"What is that idiot doing??" Hardcastle yelled.

"Hang on Judge!" Mark answered, as he yanked his own wheel and shot after Farnell.

The two cars raced down the wrong side of the freeway, weaving in and out of cars coming in the opposite direction. It was like threading a deadly maze, and just one mistake could cost you your life. The opposing drivers leaned on their horns, and some skidded off the side of the road to avoid a collision.

Finally Farnell pulled off the freeway when he came to a side road. He turned and sped off down that at more than 80 miles per hour. Mark followed.

"Hold this beast steady!" Hardcastle shouted, as he hoisted himself up out of his seat.

"Judge, what are you doing?!" Mark cried.

Hardcastle got up on his knees on the car seat so he could put both arms out of the roof of the Coyote. He braced his elbows on the top of the windshield, and grabbed his pistol with both hands.

Aiming as carefully as he could with the wind blowing in his face he aimed at Farnell's rear tires.

He fired. He fired again. He shot over and over, until he came to the last bullet in the chamber.

POW! went Farnell's right rear tire. The car went into a skid, and the front hood yanked severely to the right. Then the car turned over on the pavement.

It rolled over three more times before finally coming to a stop on its wheels again, its roof crushed in. There was gasoline leaking all over the road from the punctured gas tank.

Mark pulled the Coyote over to the road's shoulder, and he and Hardcastle leaped out. Mark reached Farnell's car first. He yanked the driver's door open and dragged Farnell out.

The gasoline on the road ignited. Farnell, battered and bruised, let Mark drag him away from the car. Hardcastle followed them. When they had both gotten back to the Coyote Farnell's car exploded in a huge fireball.

Mark and Hardcastle looked at each other, Mark still holding Farnell upright.

"All in a day's work -- right, kemo sabe?" Mark said, smiling.

# # #

That evening Mark and Hardcastle were back in Hardcastle's den. Hardcastle sat behind his desk, and Mark was sitting on the corner.

"Judge, why didn't you tell the cops about The Hulk?"

Hardcastle looked at Mark. "What, are you crazy?" he retorted. "I don't want them fitting me for a shirt with long sleeves and straps on it! Who would believe a story like that?"

"I would!" Mark said.

"I rest my case," Hardcastle responded.

Mark was silent for a moment. Then he finally asked: "What do you think happened to David Banner?"

"I don't know. In all the confusion he probably beat it, I guess."

"Why do you think he's pretending to be dead?"

"How should I know?" Hardcastle snorted. "That's his business. If he wants to play dead, then I guess that's his affair."

"But isn't he responsible for the death of Elaina Marks?"

"Nope. As far as the law is concerned, he's dead. You can't arrest a dead man. And it's been over seven years now. Even if we _could_ find him now and turn him in, they couldn't prosecute him for anything."

Mark pondered this. "I still wonder, though, what the _real_ story is with him. I think there's a lot more to him than meets the eye. And the way he disappeared from that closet – the same closet The Hulk came out of – "

"Kid, if we pursue _that_ line of questioning any further, I think we're _both_ going to end up in a rubber room!"

"Yeah, maybe you're right," Mark admitted. He looked at his watch, then slid off Hardcastle's desk. He moved over to the TV set and turned it on.

"_Now_ what are you doin'?" Hardcastle asked him.

"There's this great movie on in a couple of minutes, Judge!" Mark responded, pulling the leather easy chair over to the set. "It's called 'Revenge of the Beast With Three Eyes That Came Up Out Of The Sea', and it's about – "

Hardcastle lowered his head and covered his eyes with his hand, looking very much like he was developing a headache.

# # #

Somewhere north of Oxnard, California a lonely man walked along the side of the road in the darkness, a small garment bag slung over his shoulder.

Once he had had a normal life like any other man. A comfortable home, a loving wife, a meaningful career. Now it was all gone. For the past seven years he had been a fugitive, hiding from the law, his friends, and everyone else.

Hiding until the day he could find a cure for the raging beast that dwelled within him ...

THE END

_This story is dedicated to the enduring memories of Brian Keith and Bill Bixby._


End file.
